Chapter 3

“It was most embarrassing. I do not know what we are to do!” Emma closed her eyes, her whole body trembling just a little as she listened to her mother and father discussing her as though she was not present. “The whole tray of drinks, Follet!” her mother exclaimed, as though he – and Emma, for that matter – did not already know what had taken place. “They all came crashing down and Lord Gibson’s breeches and boots were soaked with both wine and brandy!”

“It was not as bad as all that, Mama,” Emma protested, seeing both of her parents turn their attention to her at once, though Lady Follet’s expression was rather dark. “And as I have said to you before, it was not my doing! The footman jerked forward, though I do not know why, and the tray fell just as I had picked up my glass.”

Her father sighed and rubbed one hand over his eyes.

“I would believe you, my dear,” he said, softly, “if it was not for the fact that such things have happened before. Last Season was something of a disaster when it came to your… ungainliness and I am sorry to say that it appears to be the very same issue arising again.”

Emma wanted to weep, such was her frustration and her upset, though she managed to steady herself enough to keep her tears from falling.

“I swear to you, Father, it was not my doing. I understand why you might believe that I did something to cause it, but I promise you, it was not so.”

Lord Follet sighed again and looked back to his wife, leaving Emma to search their faces, but both of their expressions were inscrutable.

“I think that it would be best if you stayed back from society a little,” her father said eventually, looking back at Emma with something of a resigned expression. “It is for the best.”

“Best for whom?” she asked quickly, her throat beginning to ache. “Best for you, so that I would not have the chance to embarrass you both any further?” When her father did not respond, but rather simply looked back at Lady Follet, Emma’s heart tore apart. It was not for her benefit, then, but rather so that her mother, father, and sister might be free of her. Closing her eyes, Emma let her tears fall, though neither her mother nor father came to comfort her. Rather, they simply looked at her with a steadiness that spoke of a firmness in their decision. She was to be shunned, then, even by her own family. “You want me to stand with the wallflowers,” Emma continued when neither of them said a word. “Is that your desire? That I will hide away with them?”

Lady Follet’s eyes lifted in evident consideration of such an idea.

“I confess, I had not thought of that. I actually was considering whether or not it would be best for you to remain at home, but I think that standing with the wallflowers would be a good idea. It would mean that you could still be present, but a little less… obtrusive.”

The tears continued to fall but Emma wiped them away, trying to steady herself. “You would both be contented with that, then? You would be glad to see me standing alone?”

“You would not be alone!” Lady Follet exclaimed delightedly, as though she was the one who had come up with such an idea. “You would be standing with other young ladies who could keep you company and you would still have the opportunity to stand up with various gentlemen should they be interested in dancing with you. You would not lack conversation and–”

“Gentlemen do not dance with wallflowers, Mama!” Emma cried, her tears returning with a vengeance. “That is why they are called wallflowers! They adorn the sides of the ballroom, but never stand up in the middle of the room! They are largely ignored and forgotten and that is the fate that you would be resigning me to!”

“I think that you are being a little dramatic, Emma.” Lord Follet cleared his throat and then folded his arms across his chest. “It is a wise suggestion to stand with the wallflowers. Would you prefer to be left at home?”

“I would prefer to be given as much consideration as Martha!” Emma exclaimed, getting to her feet. “I have told you repeatedly that none of this was my doing, but you do not believe me! You turn your face from me and decide that I have to stand aside so that you can focus your attention on Martha. Am I not your daughter also?”

Lady Follet put out her hands on either side and then let them drop, lifting her shoulders as she did so.

“I understand that you might find this difficult, Emma, but it is for the best, as we have said. Yes, you are our daughter, but it would be good for society to forget about you for a short while. It would improve your standing and when you return to London next Season, you will find yourself in a better situation.”

“If we return,” Lord Follet said, his tone dark. “Listen to me, Emma. Either you do as you are told, or you will not return to London next Season.”

Lady Follet turned to her husband with a wide-eyed look.

“You mean to say that she would be a spinster?”

“I would be willing to find her a suitable match,” Lord Follet said quietly, turning to look at his wife. “I have a cousin, as you recall, who is in need of a bride. He is a good deal older than Emma, which is why as yet, I have not considered him but–”

“Please, do not put me to that fate!” Emma protested, tears beginning to burn in her eyes again. “I will do as you ask.”

Her father gave her a curt nod, a small, satisfied smile on his face which Emma felt cut right through her. She sat back down, her hands in her lap, and her head lowering as she closed her eyes tightly against the flood of tears behind them. Her parents continued to talk with one another as though she were absent and Emma’s heart sank low, her spirits diminishing until she felt herself weak and tired. There was nothing else for her to do but to agree with her father and mother that she would stand with the wallflowers, that she would become a wallflower and refrain from stepping out into society again.

There was nothing else for her this Season – and perhaps not even next Season, should her father decide that it was pointless to put her back in amongst society to find a match there. Her future was bleak, her heart broken and nothing but sorrow awaiting her.

“Good evening.”Emma clasped her hands in front of her, looking at the young ladies standing together. “Might I ask if I would be permitted to stand with you?”

The young lady looked back at her, a smile of recognition on her face.

“But of course!” The smile quickly faded as she took in Emma’s expression. “You are troubled. I am sorry for that.” She bobbed a quick curtsey. “Miss Simmons, if you please.”

“Miss Emma Fairley,” Emma replied, as the young lady turned and beckoned to another to come closer.

“And this is Lady Frederica.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you both.” Emma tried to smile though her eyes were still sore from the tears she had cried the previous day. “It seems that I am to stand here with you both, if that would be all right? I do not have anywhere else to go.”

“But of course.” Miss Simmons smiled gently and then stepped back so that Emma might come a little closer. “I am sorry for whatever has happened to place you here.”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head.

“My father and mother believe that I am the clumsiest, most ungainly person in all of London, even though I have done my utmost to convince them that it is not always my doing. After what happened recently, it seems as though my parents have decided that I must stay away from both them and my sister so that she might have a Season without interruption.”

Lady Frederica and Miss Simmons looked at one another.

“Might I ask what happened?” Lady Frederica asked. “You see, as wallflowers, we are not always privy to the goings-on in society.”

Wincing, Emma told them the truth and found herself growing hot with embarrassment all over again. Her two new friends looked at each other and then smiled sympathetically.

“We believe you,” Miss Simmons said, gently. “I am sorry that you have been treated in such a way, however. That must be very painful.”

Emma looked away, her throat tightening again.

“It is the lesser of two evils, I suppose. My father has suggested a potential match with a cousin of his who is almost of an age with my father himself! If I do not do as he has asked this Season, then that is what will be waiting for me… either that or spinsterhood, forced upon me by my parents.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and she dropped her shoulders heavily. “So, it seems as though I shall be a wallflower for this Season at least. Though I am most grateful for your welcome,” she finished, managing to look at them both again. “Thank you, Miss Simmons, Lady Frederica.”

“But of course.” Lady Frederica smiled and lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “You are not alone here, at least. That is something which is a little encouragement, I hope.”

“It is.” Emma forced a smile and tried to push aside the heavy sadness which clung to her soul. “With you both, I am sure that I will not find the Season lonely, at least, and that is a good thing indeed.”